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I swipe my hand across the condensation on the mirror and stare at myself. Dark circles ring my eyes and my skin looks gaunt and unhealthy. I should care. I know I should, but I have to keep those feelings shoved down where I keep the memories of him.
I’m well aware the obsession I have with Donavan isn’t healthy. The man himself isn’t healthy. He’s all things dark and dangerous. Before meeting him, before that video of Ayla was sent, I would’ve never even imagined anything like him and the things he has to offer. I knew I was missing something in my life, but until it was thrust in my face like it was, I never would’ve figured it out on my own. I never would’ve tested those boundaries in such a dangerous way.
Now I can’t seem to help myself. I crave the darkness and danger. My body aches for some of that pain, some of the fear that goes along with being chased in the darkness, not knowing if I’ll make it back into the light alive.
As drunk as I was last night, I know he was here. I know he wasn’t a figment of my imagination, something I wanted so much that I dreamed him into reality.
I know he vowed to never see me again. I know he meant it, or at least he was trying to convince himself he meant it.
It could end up being true. He stayed away for months. It could be years this time.
As much as I want danger, I also know how safe I’ve been playing it by sticking here around campus. I know the risks are zero, but they’re also much lower than if I went into the city.
A thrill of possibility zings up my spine as I make it back to my room and grab my phone. My fake ID is good enough to get me into a bar. Plus, the kind of place I’d want to go really wouldn’t give a shit about how old the people inside are.
I search all around Austin, looking at the places with the lowest ratings, the ones the tourists feel inclined to spend time warning everyone else about. I find several, many deemed dangerous by online reviewers because they weren’t impressed the second time around after trying to relive their youth by revisiting their old stomping grounds twenty years later. I have to be cautious because there’s a very real chance that it’s age and maturity, the removal of rose-colored glasses, that may make them see things differently now versus when they were in college.
I find the place I plan to end up at tonight, hating how fucking expensive it’s going to be to get there because I’ll have to order a ride share. Blakely used to let me borrow her car on occasion, but when she returned to campus this fall, she did so without her car. With the torn ligaments in her right ankle, she hasn’t been able to drive and her parents were worried about it getting damaged just sitting in the parking lot for months.
I don’t bother worrying about how I look or if my clothes even match when I leave my dorm room. I don’t care about the looks I get and how those looks are now much different than they were my first two semesters here.
Before, I was the girl who turned heads and was approached because guys thought they had a chance. Now, I’m the one they seem to avoid. I don’t know if it’s my behavior or someone spreading rumors, but everyone seems to steer clear of me these days.
I’m fine with it honestly. My ability to placate people dwindled right along with my concern for my grades. Ayla threatened to pull me from college, telling me that there’s no point in wasting the money on tuition if I’m only going to fail. After that conversation, I was no more willing to give a shit than I did the mornings I purposely turned off my alarm for class.
Grabbing a tray, I step up to the counter, my stomach turning at the sight of everything.
Wanting to eat and knowing I need to are two very different things. I reach for a blueberry muffin but stop short. The streusel on top looks like mold, and there’s no way I can convince my brain otherwise. I end up with a granola bar and a soda, a breakfast of champions, I guess.
“Hey, I—”
Whatever Blaine was going to say falls away when I turn to glare at him.
I haven’t spoken to him since Donavan tied us up.
He made it very clear by his absence that he’d given up on whatever it was he wanted from me.
“Oh,” I say as I walk past him toward an empty table. “I exist to you now?”
